Excerpt: Martin and Martin's Soul

Martin rested comfortably on a hammock in his back yard. He had a quart jar full of Tang beside him on the ground, a delightful anachronism that may well have summarized his existence. He was reading a book, and periodically would place the book face down on his stomach, pages open to his place, reach out with his left hand, carefully balancing himself, grab the quart jar and bring it to his level.
This generated a swinging action, and he often had to time the swipe of his hand precisely to catch the jar. He had long ago practiced this such that he hardly ever fell out of the hammock. It was an accomplishment. No, it was an Accomplishment.